


An Aside

by crabbybun



Series: Instinctive Fire [3]
Category: Instinct (TV 2018)
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, First Date, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crabbybun/pseuds/crabbybun
Summary: Julian and Lizzie go on their first date as a couple.This is a side story to my fic Getting Burned, taking place between episode 12 & 13 of S1, and works as Part 2.5 of the Instinctive Fire series.





	An Aside

**Author's Note:**

> So, the events of the show’s finale had me questioning quite a few things in the timeline. In particular, what time of day the finale scene of episode 12 took place at, and how fast Julian & Lizzie’s relationship progressed. I hate the idea that what has happened has taken place overnight, so this is my attempt to fill that void in the timeline and flesh out the relationship a little more. 
> 
> Also, I can only write in a linear fashion, so I had to do this before I could write the final chapter of Getting Burned. I thank you all for your patience, as this awkward piece of fluff was equally as awkward and strenuous to write. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Lizzie had agreed to a dinner date with Julian after their second coffee date was once again interrupted by her work. She was grateful that Julian was understanding, because she considered her work a priority in her life, but for once she’d like to get through a day without any big emergencies. This mood made her unfocused all day; she swung between irritation at having a job with things to do, and daydreaming about Julian. She felt the tension between them becoming palpable now, and she kept flashing back to their brief encounter, which only made her want more. The fantasies her mind kept trying to create were becoming intrusive, and she snapped more often than usual when she was disturbed. Dylan noticed her mood swings and distracted nature, and tried to question her about it, but she brushed him off. She wasn’t sure  _ why  _ she didn’t feel like telling Dylan what was up right away, but she also figured that he would probably find out soon after anyway and she was way too wound up to have this particular conversation.

She rushed home from work as soon as she reasonably could, covering for her behavior and ducking Dylan by making up an excuse about Gary. Unfortunately, as was usual for her line of work, Lizzie didn’t leave until later than she really wanted to. Since she was the kind of person that liked to have a very specific pre-date routine, being two hours later than she had intended forced her to rush her routine and cut some of her preparation. This heightened her anxiety and left her more stressed than relaxed when Julian arrived to pick her up that night. 

They took a cab to the restaurant Julian had made reservations at; another darkly lit lounge with large booths that obscured the diners from one another. The cab ride over had been a silent and tense affair; they had trouble looking each other in the eye, and all attempts to start a conversation had faltered. That mood continued until after they had been seated and Julian had ordered their drinks. 

Lizzie scanned what she could of the room. “This place seems...nice,” she started awkwardly. 

Julian let out a small chuckle and smiled at her warmly. “It’s not nearly as nice as you look tonight,” he complimented, his low tone adding to his sex appeal. He didn’t seem to dress much differently then she had previously seen him, sporting a dark plum colored button up shirt and dark slacks. She had chosen a burgundy sweater dress, accenting it with gold and white. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked as she flushed at his compliment.

“I should be,” Lizzie replied, “I’ve been so wound up all day that I’ve hardly had anything to eat. But...um…” she looked around again, unconsciously sticking her hands between her knees, “and don’t get me wrong, because I’m sure this place is just...wonderful. It’s just…” she looked around once more, chewing at her bottom lip and looking for all the world like a deer in headlights, or a kid in the principal’s office.

Julian’s small smile broadened and he barely held back a laugh, startling Lizzie somewhat. “That’s a long way to go to tell me you’re uncomfortable,” he teased her.

Lizzie groaned and folded her arms on the table, dropping her head into them. “Am I that obvious?” he heard her say, somewhat muffled. She lifted her head again, “I’m so sorry, especially because I’m so bad at this. It’s just, it’s been a while since I’ve been on any sort of date and -”

Julian’s laugh cut her off, and he brought a hand up to stifle his giggling once Lizzie shot him a stern look. His smile was brilliant as he said, “I’m sorry Lizzie, I really am. It’s just...God, I’m just so  _ fascinated  _ by you. There are so many different facets to your being, and I am perpetually struck by how they all seem to exist within you at once.” Again, the blush rose to Lizzie’s cheeks, and she tried to hide a small smile by biting the sleeve of her dress. “As for this,” he continued, “I will admit that it is certainly more representative of my tastes. Places like this are usually catering to a smaller clientele, and the staff is paid well leave the patrons to their own business,” he gave Lizzie a dark look while he spoke, and a finger began slowly walking its way across her forearm, “if you understand my meaning.”

Lizzie startled at the touch and pulled away quickly, shooting Julian a slightly alarmed look. Julian pulled back much slower, purposefully touching Lizzie for as long as he could before he continued. “However, if you would be more comfortable going somewhere else, then -”

“I really,  _ really  _ would,” Lizzie said, cutting him off this time and nodding her head vigorously like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Julian’s playful, laughing smile returned, and he nodded his head back to Lizzie. “Then, shall we?” he said, extending his hand to her as she rose. She noticed him leaving something behind on the table, but he was quick and they were quietly out on the street before she had realized. Then she realized that Julian had been talking to her, but she hadn’t caught any of it.

“I’m sorry, what?” Lizzie asked, looking at Julian full-on again. 

Julian let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. “I asked you if you had anything in mind, now that we’re out here,” he replied. 

Lizzie took a good look at her surroundings for the first time in the twilight. “Well,” she said, “If I’m right about where we are, then there’s this little 24 hour breakfast diner down the street that I particularly enjoy going to. It’s a cash-only hole-in-the-wall, but they make the best Belgian waffles in the city.” Lizzie had unconsciously grabbed Julian by the hand as she started walking in the direction of the diner.

Julian laughed outright as he was pulled along like a child, falling into step with Lizzie’s brisk pace. “You want breakfast for dinner?” he queried, with a slight tone of surprise. 

Lizzie sighed and slowed her pace a little, letting them walk along more leisurely, though she didn’t let go of his hand. “As a cop,” she started, “what we usually have for breakfast is always something easy to carry, if it doesn’t end up just being straight coffee, and the rest of my meals aren’t much better. So when I have an opportunity to actually sit down and have a decent meal I...tend to crave a  _ real  _ breakfast…” she trailed off a little.

Julian looked at her, eyebrow raised. “Not anything else?” he questioned, “You never crave a lasagna, or a big fat steak?” 

Another sigh followed, and Julian noticed Lizzie avoiding eye contact somewhat.

“This shouldn’t feel so personal,” she said, “But sometimes when I’m up late with a case, I um, I sometimes, um, cook to take my mind off of things. It makes me want to eat out less, it gives me an excuse to take a break when I’ve been at it for too long, and sometimes it helps me figure out the problems I’ve been stuck on. I  _ know  _ that sounds weird, but -”

Julian cut her off with a stifled laugh; she turned her head and noticed him put a hand to his mouth, as if he were coughing, but his smile gave him away. He stopped holding her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders supportively. “First of all, there is absolutely nothing weird about that. Cooking is a very normal hobby for quite a number of folks, and science supports the idea that we solve problems in other areas of our life by expressing ourselves creatively.” Lizzie was fighting the urge to turn as red as her dress, since she found herself to be unexpectedly sensitive about her cooking skills, but it was clear Julian was trying to be supportive, and Lizzie couldn’t help the smile that grew over her lips. 

“So this time, we’ll have breakfast for dinner,” he continued, “and maybe next time we’ll have dinner in instead. I’m not a bad cook myself, you know, and if you enjoy breakfast than I must make you my fluffy, four egg omelet.” He felt Lizzie lean against him as they walked, and his arm fell from around her shoulder to around her waist. 

“Are you the kind of guy who gets up early?” she asked in a playful tone.

“You’ll have to find out,” he told, equally as playful, “Is this you asking me to stay the night already?”

“Mm, perhaps,” she said, wrapping an arm around Julian’s waist as they continued their walk.

“Is there anything I can do to sway your decision?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she teased him, “What might you have in mind?”

“This,” Julian said simple before stopping to swoop down and capture Lizzie’s lips. It was a chaste kiss, and Lizzie smiled into it, unconsciously moving closer to Julian. Her arms were on their way up to his neck when a loud rumble came from the direction of Julian’s midsection. He pulled away with a dismayed look as Lizzie began giggling uncontrollably. 

“Okay,” she said through her giggles as she tried to stand up straight, “You sound hungry. Why don’t we pick this up again later? Like, after we eat?”

“Agreed,” Julian said, “How much farther are we?”

“Not far,” she told him, “In fact, I think we’re actually pretty close by now.” She took Julian’s hand once more and they set off down the street.

As they walked and a comfortable silence descended between them, Julian found his thoughts ruminating on the woman next to him. He was perpetually wonderous of her, noting how she normally lived a very structured and oriented life, but tonight she was behaving far more impulsively and openly. He wondered how much of her life before had been taken up by managing her grief. Was she like this more often with her previous lover? Or was it more in her nature to celebrate the occasional special event in her before going back to her routine and structure? These weren’t questions he felt he could ask her; more like theories he wanted to find out on his own. If he spent enough time with her, maybe he could get a grasp on the extraordinary creature that she was.

He was pulled out of his reverie when she opened the door to a small, neon-lit place that he might not have noticed otherwise. The sign above the door said “Bertha’s” and the dirty outside was lit entirely in neon pink. The facade was misleading, however, as the inside of the place looked like you had stepped back in time to an old-school 50s diner. The place had black and white tile floors, with old concert posters and vinyl records decorating the walls. The back wall of the place was covered by a full mirror above where the customers sat, and next to it stood a working jukebox currently cranking out Motown. Lizzie nodded to the waitress behind the counter, and led Julian to a booth along the wall, where she took a seat facing the mirror. 

Julian smiled to himself, understanding Lizzie a little better and solving a personal mystery for himself as he took a seat opposite her. Once seated, Lizzie directed his attention by pointing at something on the wall.

“See,” she said, “they really do have the best Belgian waffles in the city.” On the wall, in amongst the rock memorabilia, were a set of awards from New York Magazine stating that Bertha’s did indeed serve the best Belgian waffles in the city. For about four years now, from what he could tell. Julian turned to see Lizzie pulling something off the wall, and when he looked for himself he saw the laminated menus velcroed to the wall. As he pulled away his own, he noticed the menu was all one sheet, printed front and back, and it was limited to breakfast and lunch items only, though he noticed they served the menu 24/7.

“You weren’t kidding when you said they specialized in breakfast either,” he remarked, hearing Lizzie giggle a little from across the table, “Is there anything you recommend?”

“Oh I am entirely here for the waffles,” she said, looking more at Julian than the menu, “all topped off with whipped cream and fresh fruit…” 

Julian made a face at her. “That sounds more like dessert than breakfast to me,” he replied, “I like my meals to be a bit more...substantial.” He frowned at the menu as he scanned it, finally spying some of the more savory items. “Oh but this place certainly has options,” he muttered, “Have you tried the chorizo stuffed hot pepper?”

It was Lizzie’s turn to make a face. “So, it’s not that I  _ don’t  _ like hot foods,” she said, “it’s just that I don’t like hot spice to be the  _ only  _ thing I taste.” Julian chuckled as a waitress came over to their booth. 

After they had placed their orders, Lizzie looked at him and asked as casually as she could, “So...you eat bacon?”

Julian’s face went through several expressions before he answered “Yes…” tentatively.

Lizzie put her hands up quickly in a defensive motion. “Hey, I’m not trying to be rude. It’s just that I know literally nothing about you. Well, not really anyway. Charlie was one of the whitest guys you could ever meet, and you’re definitely not, and I don’t entirely know where to start with conversation, and I  **don’t** want to talk about work,” she ended her rambling firmly. 

Julian felt endless amusement at her awkwardness, but he suppressed his mirth this time, cocking his head to the side and inquiring, “What do you mean ‘Charlie was one of the whitest guys you could meet’?” instead. 

Lizzie groaned and hung her head in her hands. “Look, don’t tell anyone this,” she said, “because it sounds petty, but when he died I was secretly glad I’d never have to listen to Toby Keith again.” Julian could contain his mirth no more, laughing outright and dropping his head onto his arms. “See,” Lizzie continued, “Oh, and he used to set like 3 different alarms and then proceed to sleep through literally  _ all  _ of them. I loved Charlie, so so so much, I really did. But there are little things that I didn’t think I’d be relieved about. Like sure there are little things that seem  **so** much bigger now that he’s gone, but there are other little things that I’m just so glad I don’t have to live with anymore.”

Julian had lifted his head and was resting his cheek on his hand, eyes shining with wonder at Lizzie’s unique take on pragmatism, and replied with a smile. “Well, I am no fan of Toby Keith, and I am a relatively light sleeper as well, so no worries there.”

“I am too,” she responded, “and while I’m trying not to talk about work, I do think it’s something about the jobs we do that makes us that way. Except that it never seemed to get to Charlie like that and sometimes it drove me absolutely nuts.”

“You know, you’ve handled Charlie’s death rather well it seems,” he said by way of a compliment.

Lizzie locked eyes with Julian and panic flickered across her features. “I know it seems that way,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry, “but I feel like a wreck. I feel like I’m constantly like thisclose to breaking down” she indicated with her fingers, her hands suddenly fidgety, “and when he first passed I was a weepy mess. I broke down all over the house, at every little thing; I couldn’t keep myself together at all…”

Julian reached across the tabled and grabbed hold of Lizzie’s hands firmly, silently letting her compose herself. After a moment, she squeezed his hands back reassuringly, and pulled away as the waitress returned with coffee and mugs. 

“It is a healthier reaction by far than my typical response to emotional pain,” Julian picked up as the waitress left, continuing as he dressed his coffee, “I’m not proud of my coping skills, but I’ve never exactly had the luxury of using anything else.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Are you referring to your drinking?” she asked as she dressed her own coffee.

Julain nodded. “Suffice it to say, my childhood was not the happiest, and I was on my own by the time I was sixteen. Alcohol is cheap and readily available in most places, even when other necessities are not.”

“I’m sorry for your troubles,” Lizzie said, concerned etched into her features.

“My troubles are what they are, or, at least, they were. Most of them are in the past now. And they are all much easier to bear with a sympathetic hand.” He reached across the table to take one of Lizzie’s hands into his own. This time, she took his more naturally, squeezing reassuringly as they continued talking.

“Well,” she said, sipping her coffee, “Not to talk about work, but then how did you manage to get into spying?” 

Julian took a sip of his own coffee. “Do you break your own rules often?” Julian asked, avoiding the question. 

Lizzie was a little unprepared for the conversation turn around. “Pardon?” she asked, “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

“You’ve made no secret of the fact that your life is guided by a set of rules, and I am lead to believe that I somehow encourage you to break all of them. I am at a loss as to understanding how, or why either. 

Lizzie sighed a little. “Okay, so…how to explain this…” she started, “Yes, I do live my life by a set of rules, but those are mostly dictated by the fact that my job is my life. And I shared a whole lot of both of those with Charlie and everything fit together neatly. And when he was alive...I...I wasn’t as uptight as I am now. That’s...that’s more new. But when he died, I...I...felt...like I maybe lost that part of me too?” She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were shining, almost pleading with Julian to understand this wordless, emotional thing she was dealing with. Julian’s warm eyes met hers with compassion and empathy, and she blurted out the last part: “and you’re the first person to make me think that maybe that’s not true.”

Lizzie broke the eye contact suddenly, distracting herself by stirring her coffee. “I’m sorry,” she continued, “I’m not quite sure I mean it that way. It’s just that...well you fascinate me. You know, a guy such as yourself is not someone I encounter everyday”

Julian considered himself an expert in dealing with emotional pain, and knew that Lizzie’s moment of vulnerability needed to be handled delicately, and that meant not dwelling on it. “What do you mean by ‘a guy such as myself’?” he inquired, trying to let her direct the conversation to safer territory.

Lizzie blushed a little. “You know,” she responded, “tall, dark, sexy, and mysterious…”

“Oh,” Julian said with a smirk, “Sexy huh?” He rested his hand on his fist and smiled at her, “that compliment could go both ways.”

“Oh shut up,” Lizzie muttered, the blush darkening as she tried to tuck her chin farther back and avoid eye contact.

She was thankful that it was about this moment the waitress returned with their food, refilling their coffee in the process. When she had left, Lizzie picked up the thread of conversation again. 

“Also, I don’t consider my last question to you to necessarily be breaking my ‘no work conversation’ rule. Since you divulged a little of your background, I was simply looking for a connection between them and where you are in life now. So, as I said, how did you go from homeless at sixteen to a spy for the CIA?”

Julian was fascinated by the way she managed to compose herself again and redirect the conversation back to the question he had avoided, despite the interruption. He humored her by answering “Criminal activities, and I’m not really at liberty to say much else.”

Lizzie chewed her food thoughtfully and responded, “I respect that; Dylan isn’t usually at much liberty to tell me about his past either.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as they ate for a moment, but after a few bites Lizzie started in again. “So what do you do when you’re not working?” was her next question.

Julian chuckled around his fork. “Ah, now that’s a safe question,” he teased her, but replied in a more serious tone “I play guitar for fun, actually.”

“Oh really? Is that a recent thing?”

“Not really, no. I picked it up a long time ago.”

“Oh, okay. I wondered if that was something you picked up through YouTube or something; one of the other officers did that recently. But that’s great; you must be pretty good by now then.”

Julian surprised himself with his laughter, but he couldn’t stop it. “Oh no,” he said through giggles, “I’m quite bad. YouTube has, in fact, been helpful in my getting better but I am not nearly talented enough to be playing around with an instrument.”

Lizzie giggled along with him. “Not many men would be able to admit that,” she told him.

“Well what about you?” he asked, “Do you play any instruments?”

“Oh no, not since I was in school,” Lizzie said, making a face, “I was never musically inclined, but my parents put me through a  _ ringer  _ of extracurriculars and music was certainly one of them.”

“What did you play?”

“Clarinet and flute, mostly. My parents pushed some  _ very _ stereotypical gender pursuits when I was a child, particularly ones that would look good to colleges. I was pretty athletic, and would love to have done more sports, but they discouraged that, and since I wasn’t musically inclined those two instruments are the only ones they could stand to hear me practicing. Violin did  **not** go over well.”

Julian snorted, nearly choking.

“Yeah it wasn’t quite as funny to my parents,” Lizzie continued, “but as an adult my complete tone deafness is now one of those embarrassing stories my parents tell to unsuspecting strangers at dinner.”

Julian continued to chuckle, replying “I can only imagine what happened when you brought Charlie home the first time. But I am also pleased to hear that, despite outward appearances, you fail to reach perfection.” A playful smile sat on the corner of his lips and he looked up at Lizzie as he bent to finish off his plate.

Lizzie had already completed her meal; the dishes were stacked neatly to the side, and she rested her head on her hand as she stirred her coffee. “Oh I am  _ far  _ from perfect,” she muttered, “and I’m sure if you stick around long enough you’ll see all the little chips and cracks.”

Julian stopped, his fork halfway to his mouth and stared at Lizzie, who was rather absentmindedly staring at her coffee cup. He put the fork down and crossed his hands under his chin, weighing how he would respond to that. 

“In spite of our banter, Lizzie,” he started, “I’m sure those parts of yourself that you call ‘chips and cracks’ will be the things about you I will come to love the most.”

Lizzie started a little at this, blushing again at Julian’s sincere and personal way of complimenting. She smiled softly, taking a sip of her coffee as Julian continued his meal. 

“Well, I can certainly hope for that outcome,” she said, “But realistically I’m sure we both will have habits that annoy one another. Weren’t we discussing some of those earlier?”

“Indeed,” Julian said, finishing off the last of his meal, “You had been bemoaning your late fiance’s peculiarities, and in the interest of honesty I must tell you that one of mine includes singing loudly but badly in the shower.”

Lizzie giggled as the waitress came over to take their plates. “That opinion seems a little subjective to me,” she replied, “Do you want dessert?”

“Let me guess, they have pie here?”

“Of course they have pie here.” Lizzie placed the order with the waitress as their coffees were once again refilled. “Now, I have one that is  _ objectively  _ annoying, as I even manage to annoy myself with it. I have a tendency to leave half full mugs of stale coffee all over my house. I always pour myself a cup, get distracted partway through it, have to put it down, and inevitably forget all about it. I have to run out all of a sudden, or there’s some catastrophe I have to clean up and when I finally get home there it sits in the worst spot just waiting to be knocked over.”

Julian laughed yet again. He felt like she was subtly funny; she wasn’t trying to be funny, but she had a way of explaining and phrasing things that he found tickled him. “It’s those little traits and habits that show you who a person really is. Like Dylan and his pizza, for instance.”

“You mean that weird way he has to fork and knife it?” she said as the slices of pie made their way to the table, “Like seriously, what kind of New Yorker even  _ does  _ that?”

“Ah, I see you know of what I speak.” Lizzie nodded as she took a bite of pie. “Now, to me,” Julian continued, “It speaks to the idea he carries that his etiquette is instrumental in how he is viewed by the public at large. Paradoxically, sometimes this means he sticks out by going against what is typically viewed as normal.”

“Oh? And is this an expert opinion?”

“Well, he’s the profiling wonderboy, not me. But there are skills you pick up as a spy.” He looked up at Lizzie from under his brow again as he ate, “Not that we’re talking about work.”

“We aren’t,” Lizzie clarified nonchalantly, looking up herself and meeting his gaze, “We are discussing the weird traits of a mutual friend.” Julian smiled, and they finished up their dessert quickly, with Lizzie calling the check over. 

“Now that our meal is finished,” Lizzie said, “let me apologize for usurping your date plans. Was there anything else you had planned for after our meal?”

“Well,” Julian said slowly, thoughtfully, “I had no firm plans; much of my ideas were dependent upon how our meal went. And I must confess dinner did not go quite the way I was expecting it to.”

“I can’t imagine you believe it went badly.”

“Oh not at all,” he reassured her, “But most of my...fantasies had been as dark as our previous location was.”

“Oh I see,” Lizzie said with a teasing tone and a flirty smile, “You thought I’d be so enamoured and turned on by you at this point that there would be no point in doing anything else.”

“Well, compared to this brightly lit establishment and our rather exposing conversation, yes I had maybe had a few more...carnal plans in mind.”

Lizzie giggled as the check arrived and she grabbed it from the waitress without a second thought, reaching for her purse with a broad smile.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” she heard Julian say sternly, and she looked up to see him giving her a hard expression. Somehow, this made her giggle more.    
“I was paying for the bill,” she said, not stopping what she was doing, “I picked this place and derailed your plans; least you could do is let me pay for it.”

“It it entirely inappropriate; after all, I am the one who initiated this.”

Lizzie felt like a teenager, and she took a great deal of pleasure in their current playful banter. “Let me pay for dinner, and you can fund whatever it is we decide to do next. Whether that’s more coffee, ice cream, some sort of movie, I don’t care.” She finished counting the cash for the bill and handed it straight to the returning waitress so that Julian had no more time to refute her. 

She smiled warmly at him. “I don’t mind being treated to things, but I do believe in fairness. And right now, I feel that it’s only  _ fair  _ that I pay for dinner, considering this place was my idea. Besides, you’ve been paying for a lot of our meetings recently.”

“As if coffee really counts,” Julian said as they burst out into the crisp New York night air, the street still alive with couples and party goers, “What’s really not fair is that I expected us to be a lot drunker by now.”

“How is that ‘not fair’?” Lizzie asked, “I’m not quite the drinker you seem to be.”

Julian laughed again good-naturedly. “I am not suggesting we go party like it’s 1999.” Lizzie laughed. “No, you are simply dressed…. _ very  _ nicely, and I was thinking that maybe we could go get a drink on some nice rooftop bar with a view and just...see where the rest of the night leads us?” He moved closer to her as he spoke, slowly coming into her personal space and sliding his arms around her hips. Lizzie let him, resting her hands on his arms and maintaining intense eye contact. “What is going through that head of yours?” he asked in a low murmur after a moment of silence. 

“I’m wondering if we should skip the drinks and just...call it a night, if you catch my drift.”

Julian’s smile widened somewhat. “If that is how you really feel, I am certainly not opposed. However, I took you for a woman who enjoyed a little more romance in her life than that.”

“Oh, I usually am, but I also feel like you’re trying to get me drunk and I don’t trust that.”

“Oh Lizzie,” Julian said with a small sigh, “I am not here to take advantage of you. And I’m also surprised; does one glass of wine really get you drunk? You’re more of a lightweight than I thought.”

“Well, no, okay  _ one  _ glass of wine does not get me drunk.”

“You see? I’m not looking to take you someplace loud, and crowded, to drink til we black out and forget our sorrows. It’s not that kind of night.” Lizzie laughed at him again, and he smiled as he felt her relax once more. “Come. Perhaps we can find a place with a nice dessert wine, and some finger foods to go along with it.”

“Finger foods?” she said as they pulled apart, “We  _ just  _ finished dinner, and dessert, and you wanna buy me finger foods?”

“Is that a yes?”

Lizzie gave him a stern eye, hands on her hips, before slouching over defeated. “Alright, let’s go have a drink.”

Julian hailed a cab and Lizzie let him pick what bar they would go to, determined to enjoy whatever dark, claustrophobic, tucked away place he chose. Yet, to her surprise, the place he picked was well-lit with soft lamps hanging from the ceiling and lights in the floor. The place was spacious, with a wide open spaces for dancing and mingling, and a big balcony stretching around the outside. Julian didn’t bother to take her coat once inside; instead, he placed a quiet order with a waitress and led Lizzie out onto the far less crowded balcony. Lizzie had clocked this action as part of Julian’s spy habits, but she was pleasantly surprised when she found out how cozy the balcony area was. Big braziers sat out and lit, the conversation was quieter out there, and the view of the city was breathtaking. She chatted quietly with Julian; they teased each other lightly and admired the ambiance. Lizzie was so absorbed, she never saw the waitress - she just knew Julian was suddenly handing her a glass of wine, or offering her a small pastry or piece of fruit. By the time they left, Lizzie was feeling warm - smiling and content as she leaned against her companion. 

As Julian led them out of the bar a couple hours later, Lizzie took the initiative and pulled Julian close to her, using the scarf around his neck to pull him down to her for a kiss. 

“I’m glad I did this,” she whispered softly as they parted, “All of this. I don’t think I realized just how much I needed to do this again.”

“Agreed,” Julian said, a little breathless, rubbing noses with her softly, “and I am loathe for this night to end. This is the City That Never Sleeps after all. Shall we find something else to do?”

Lizzie laughed softly. “No, I don’t think will be necessary.” The smile on her face dropped a moment, then reappeared, but more strained. “Why don’t you...you know...take me home instead?”

Julian’s brow creased and a look of puzzlement crossed his features. “Are you sure that’s something you want?” He raised an eyebrow as Lizzie flushed, rolled her eyes, and huffed a little. 

“Yes,” she said firmly, squaring her shoulders a little, “I’m just...really bad at flirting intentionally it seems. To be honest, I’m not quite sure I remember how anyway.”

Julian’s chuckle was deeper than before, full of a warmth the night as created. He embraced Lizzie close, saying “I would love to escort you home, Lizzie” as he planted a kiss in her hair.

He gestured to the street and they hailed a cab back to her place. The whole cab ride over, they stayed close; whispering little flirty things, exchanging small kisses and caresses. They tried not to disturb the driver but Julian was finding it harder and harder to keep his hands off her.

She led him up the stairs to her door, stopping right at the top and turning around toward him. 

“Would you like to come in?” she asked quietly, eyes low. 

“Only if you want me to,” he replied, in an equally low and husky voice. 

She leaned out to kiss him as he leaned in to meet her; this kiss was more heated than any before, and Lizzie was left panting and a little breathless when they parted. 

“Yes,” she managed to gasp out, “I would like that very much.”

Their lips connected again; Julian’s hands came up to grasp Lizzie’s head as she grabbed at his shoulders. 

“You should probably open the door,” Julian said cheekily before kissing her again.

Lizzie giggled and pulled away, nodding her head. She turned around, fumbling for her keys as Julian kept himself close against her back, his arms around her waist. She grabbed his wrist as she got the door open, pulling him through it, the door slamming behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware the show has restarted. I will probably continue retconning things as I watch it but please note that I am not watching the show live so I will have no clue if I’m keeping with cannon for certain details until later. I have way too much stuff to do.  
> Oh who tf am I kidding? It’s cannon divergence fic anyway. I’ll retcon it when I get to it.


End file.
